


Dice

by Fenix21



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Sexual Tension, Teasing, dice game, suggested underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenix21/pseuds/Fenix21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean plays street craps. Sam is along for luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dice

**Author's Note:**

> I just had this vision of Sam's sultry look as he blew across Dean's fist for luck and this happened.

Sammy's breath was warm and damp on Dean's skin as he blew across his big brother's loosely closed fist, lips pursed sweet and perfect and pink, the bottom one pouting out just a little. Dean's heart thundered in his ears.

Sam was supposed to be back at the motel room, pouring over his trig homework or working on that spell translation John had called about the night before last, but he'd begged so prettily, looking up from under those long lashes and that dark, silken fringe, to be allowed to go with Dean to tonight's game at the warehouse.

Dean had his Colt tucked in the back of his jeans. Sam's Taurus that John had just bought him this last spring for his fifteenth birthday was nested in the sweet, shallow curve of Sam's lower back hidden out of sight of all these local roughnecks. It wasn't that they didn't trust these guys, or that they expected any kind of trouble. They were honest, most of them. It was just that Sam and Dean didn't go anywhere unarmed. Monsters came in all shapes and sizes and it didn't pay to be caught unawares.

The air Dean was trying to breathe in was suddenly too thick and warm, like in one of those cedar lined sauna rooms at the persnickety country clubs one of John's FBI badges sometimes got them into. His tongue darted out to lick across his bottom lip, and he saw Sam's eyes go a shade darker, the corners of his mouth give a tiny hitch upward as he pulled away and let his bottom lip drag across Dean's skin. He leaned back, sucked his lip between teeth and sketched it with the tip of his tongue as if he were savoring the tang of Dean's skin left from that brief contact.

'For luck,' Sam whispered, barely audible.

And Dean knew what a curious and crazy picture they cut just now, locked into each other like two swiftly tilting planets caught in the gravity well of a black hole, all kinds of dangerous and uncomfortable signals going up from both of them that were probably raising gooseflesh and alarm bells and the fine hairs on the backs of sweating necks; but Dean really didn't give a fuck. He twitched his lips into that slow smirk that made Sam's eyes flash with momentary fire and his lips part to let out a hot rush of breath that Dean's fist was still close enough to feel.

Desire pinched at the base of his spine and wire-walked all along his nerve endings, and he let the smirk spread into a grin that was anything but humorous and had made a lot of men caught at its wrong end shiver and shake in their boots. Not Sammy, though. No. To Sam that grin was two parts invitation, three parts dare, and all 'come hither.' He gave the tiniest shake of his head and mirrored that dangerous expression in color transmuting eyes, giving back as good as he got.

The finest tremor shot through Dean's body and he twitched the dice loose from his fist, never taking his eyes from his bother as they smacked the curb and skittered across concrete to a chorus of groans and 'oh, man! what luck!' Sam's eyes slid to the side to take in the winning throw and Dean leered a little as he held out his palm.

'Pay up gentlemen,' he said easy and smooth. Bills landed in his hand with offers to go double or nothing and best of three and 'let's go just one more round, huh?'

Dean counted and folded the bills and tucked them safely inside his leather coat before he rose up from his crouch all smooth as a wild cat rising from a nap to take on the hunt. His hand landed heavy and warm across the back of Sam's neck and drew him up as well, squeezing a little harder than strictly necessary, conveying his every intent once they were out from under all these eyes.

'Sorry, fellas. It's been nice, and I thank you for the game, but I've got to get my little brother home to bed.'

'De-ean!' Sam whined on cue, hiding his grin in the twist of his head as he played at trying to slip his brother's grip.

Dean kept his grip on Sam all the way back to the car, half a pace off his shoulder, but still angled to take the brunt of anything that might come at them from any direction. Dean, the all encompassing shield. He jangled the keys a little and unlocked Sam's door on the shadowed side of the car and pulled it open.

'Gonna take me back and tuck me in, Dean?' Sam breathed close to Dean's ear as he turned neatly to sink into the seat.

Dean grabbed a handful of hoodie, dragged Sam up, and thrust him against the doorframe. Sam hissed a little as the metal cut across under his shoulder blades. Dean's hand caught at the base of his throat, thumb rubbing hard up and down over his pulsing carotid artery, and he leaned in close.

'Could tuck into you right here, Sammy,' he gritted out, pushing up into Sam's space and fitting his over-excited cock into the groove of his brother's hip.

Sam stayed perfectly still, slow smile spreading across his face, teasing his dimples out of hiding. 'Anywhere you want, brother. Anytime.' He smirked, eyes turning bright and mischievous. 'Just remember half those winnings are mine.'

'Fuck they are.' Dean grinned back, just as mischievous and full of intent.

Sam slithered a hand, quick and agile, between their bodies and grabbed his brother's crotch. 'Aren't I your Lady Luck tonight?'

Dean shook his head, breath suddenly short and heavy.'You're no lady, Sammy.'

His eyes tracked to the tiny, orange flare of a cigarette being lit and one of the game players shuffling his feet against the chill in the crisp, autumn air. He backed up a fraction, but Sam's hand stayed between his legs.

'Gonna take a goddamn miracle to hold out to the motel room,' he ground out.

Sam laughed, sweet and high and bell-like, taunting Dean's blood to heat another degree and his hips to rock forward to fill his brother's palm just a little more fully. Sam slipped his hand away, pecked Dean on the cheek, and breathed warm and wet across the flushed skin of his neck.

'For luck,' he whispered, and dropped into the shotgun seat with a teasing grin that promised a long night ahead.


End file.
